


batter with you

by aegious



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegious/pseuds/aegious
Summary: Mitsuki wakes up to burnt bacon and an empty bed.
Relationships: Izumi Mitsuki/Kujou Ten
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	batter with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aruarudayo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aruarudayo/gifts).



> this is for a, uh, secret santa even tho it's so far past christmas i dont even think i can call it that anymore. but its mitsutenn for [ARU](https://twitter.com/aruchama) ily aru....... i hope you enjoy th em,

It’s not the smell of burnt bacon that wakes Mitsuki up this morning. Rather, it’s the sudden, loud exclamation of _“Dammit!”_ that manages to cut through the closed door that separates the bedroom from the kitchen.

Mitsuki blinks the sleep from his eyes and rolls over in bed. There’s a distinct lack of presence next to him, and when he looks over, vision still blurry, he sees an empty spot where there shouldn’t be one.

He frowns. It’s chilly without a warm body next to him, cuddling close like he’s a lifeline. His eyes flicker to the door as he pieces the evidence together, and then he sighs, throwing the covers off of him and trying to ignore the sudden cold that brushes against his bare legs.

In just a T-shirt, boxers, and one sock—who knows where the other one went, honestly—he makes his way to the door and tugs at the knob to pull it open, listening closely for anything more.

There are some nondescript sizzling noises from down the hall, some pops and hisses too, but the kitchen is perfectly hidden by the corner of the wall that opens up into the living room. The smell of burnt food carries him forward.

“Tenn?” he calls. There’s no one else it could be, after all.

There’s a clatter of metal against metal and another swear that has Mitsuki pressing a hand to his lips to keep him from laughing out loud. More clattering, more suppressed laughter.

He turns the corner and sees Tenn hunched over the stove, pan in hand, tilted just enough that the charred bacon in it is threatening to slide out and onto the floor. On the counter next to him is their waffle maker, overflowing with batter that runs down the sides in huge blobs.

The sleeves of Tenn’s pajama shirt are pushed up to his elbows, but one keeps threatening to fall back down, the hem dangerously close to a nearby pool of waffle batter. There’s an angry red mark on the back of his other hand where he might have gotten too close to the grease. His hair is disheveled, and there’s some kind of powder on his cheeks and nose. Batter mix, Mitsuki assumes.

Tenn’s expression is one of mortification, from the way his eyes bulge to the tenseness of his lips as they curl back.

Then with a jerk of his wrist, he sets the pan down on the stove, giving up on saving the burnt remains. He straightens his posture and straightens his shirt, and he clears his throat before speaking. “Mitsuki. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replies, cocking his head to the side. “I see your cooking skills run in the family.”

Tenn shuffles to the side, as if trying to hide the evidence of this disaster. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mitsuki raises an eyebrow and steps closer, pushing Tenn gently out of the way to really take in every food crime he’s committed in this short amount of time. The counter is covered in batter and boxed waffle mix; the waffle maker doesn’t look like it’ll ever come clean. There’s grease from the bacon covering the stove, and not even one strip looks remotely edible.

He looks up and laughs when Tenn hastily looks away, a hand covering his face.

“Is any of this even salvageable?” Mitsuki muses, tugging on Tenn’s arm until his hand is peeled away from his mouth. Still, Tenn refuses to look at him.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Tenn mumbles. He bites at his lip and dares to glance down, but it’s quick, just a flicker.

Mitsuki nods and looks back at the counter. “Well, I’m definitely surprised.”

“Just forget it.” He grimaces, bending over toward the towel hanging from the oven door. “We’ll go out for breakfast.”

Mitsuki follows Tenn downward and catches his chin in his hand. Tenn pauses, his own hand gripping the towel too tightly, and Mitsuki takes that moment of hesitation to press a gentle kiss onto his cheek. “Let’s stay in.”

Tenn’s bangs completely hide his face, but Mitsuki doesn’t need to see it to know his reaction. “But the food…”

“Doesn’t matter.” Mitsuki tugs at Tenn’s chin until they’re looking straight at each other. “Let’s make something else.”

Tenn raises an eyebrow doubtfully.

“I’ll make something else,” Mitsuki amends, already foreseeing the disaster that would come along with Tenn’s second attempt in the kitchen.

But Tenn frowns and shakes his head, albeit awkwardly in Mitsuki’s grasp. He reaches up and removes Mitsuki’s hand while threading their fingers together, holding it gently and yet firmly, with all the conviction of someone with a degree in culinary arts. “No, I’m helping.”

Mitsuki doesn’t know how to tell him that he’s making a terrible, terrible mistake. “But Tenn, the poor waffles—”

Tenn squeezes Mitsuki’s hand. “I wanted to make you breakfast, and I will. Let me help.”

The stakes seem much higher than they ought to be, Mitsuki thinks, but when he glances back down at the bacon charred pitch black in the pan he doesn’t think he’s being too dramatic here. “Maybe we should start with cereal.”

“I can do better than _cereal,”_ Tenn protests with an indignant scoff.

“I don’t trust you.” Mitsuki snatches his hand away only to place it on his hip.

Tenn’s nose wrinkles with his frown, and Mitsuki’s chest twinges a little. He pushes himself onto the balls of his feet and kisses Tenn’s frown away.

“Okay. I’ll trust you a little,” he says as he pulls away, smirking at the soft touch of pink coloring Tenn’s cheeks. “You’re not allowed to touch anything hot, though.”

Tenn tugs at his sleeve in a meager attempt to cover up the burn mark on his hand. “It was an accident.”

Mitsuki snickers and shakes his head, already turning toward the messy counter and reaching for the towel. “Doesn’t matter. Come on, I’ll clean the waffle maker. You clean yourself up and grab some more bacon out of the fridge.”

There’s a short pause, and then: “Mitsuki.”

“Hm?”

He looks up to see what’s happening, but Tenn meets him halfway, swiping his finger across Mitsuki’s nose. He feels the slimy, thick batter immediately before he fully recognizes what it is.

When it hits, he lets out a shout and jumps away. “Wh–what was that for?!”

Tenn chuckles softly into his hand, watching Mitsuki with a little triumphant smile. “Just as I thought. It’s cute.”

“What’s cute?” Mitsuki wipes furiously at the batter until it’s mostly off.

“You are,” Tenn says simply, like it’s an obvious fact. He leaves Mitsuki a blushing mess when he turns toward the sink to wash his hands, ignoring the way Mitsuki sputters out wordless syllables.

“Shut it! I’m still not letting you use the stove,” Mitsuki retorts lamely, rubbing again at his nose. He wads up the towel and scrubs at the counter, picking at the dried batter that stains its surface.

The faucet turns off and leaves them in a short silence. Mitsuki’s about to look up from his work when he feels cool hands snake around his waist. He jumps a little when Tenn rests his chin on his shoulder. “You’re still better at this than I am.”

“It’s just bacon and waffles,” Mitsuki grumbles. “It’s really not that hard.”

Tenn nuzzles into Mitsuki’s neck and fiddles with the hem of Mitsuki’s shirt. Before Mitsuki can say anything, he pulls the fabric up and presses his freezing cold hands against Mitsuki’s bare stomach. A sudden gasp escapes from Mitsuki’s lips and he squirms, trying to escape from Tenn’s hold, but Tenn has him firmly in place.

Tenn’s fingers trace light patterns on his stomach, trim nails scratching against his skin. Mitsuki’s breath hitches in his throat; it feels good, so good. But his hands are _so damn cold._ And the more Mitsuki tries to get away, the tighter Tenn holds him against his chest.

So he shoves his hands deep into the batter bowl, reaches up, and smears as much batter as he can manage across Tenn’s face.

It successfully manages Tenn to get his hands off of him, and Mitsuki feels pride well up in his chest as he watches Tenn practically claw at his face, completely taken aback by Mitsuki’s counterattack.

“What was that!” Tenn shouts, his voice cracking as he loses his composure.

“Revenge.” Mitsuki’s grin is cheeky, but he reaches up to help wipe off some of the batter. “You’re pretty cute, too.”

Tenn jerks and doesn’t say anything for a long moment. It’s just him, Mitsuki, and the batter coating them both in disgusting globs.

One of those globs drips off of Tenn’s chin and onto his bare feet. “We can make cereal.”

Mitsuki bursts out laughing, only getting louder when Tenn joins in with his own soft chuckles. At least now he knows he’d been right to not let Tenn be in charge of cooking.

**Author's Note:**

> im on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/aegious)


End file.
